


Retail Therapy

by Rebness



Category: Interview With the Vampire (1994), Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: M/M, vcsecretgifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:44:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9002146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebness/pseuds/Rebness
Summary: For Lestat, shopping is a good time to deal with holes in things and mutinous fledglings.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [necrodruidlife](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=necrodruidlife).



> Written for Necrodruidlife on Tumblr, for the VC Secret Santa challenge: 
> 
> "For my gift, I would love to see Lestat being pushy/bossy/melodramatic and Louis being clearly (but perhaps not all together obviously) into it."

 

‘You can stop looking so smug,’ said Louis. ‘It’s not a triumphant thing, to kill.’

‘ _Au contraire,_ ’ said Lestat. ‘’Each time you let me watch, I feel blessed.’ He took up Louis’s hand and kissed the back of it.

Louis snatched it away. ‘It’s not like I have a choice.’

‘We could argue about this all night, but let’s not. I’m too happy.’ Lestat clutched his arm and walked in pace alongside him, humming softly as they sauntered through the deserted French streets of the little town they had hunted in this night, one of a thousand generic little towns on the outskirts of Paris. Every so often, he looked Louis up and down, his smile giving way to a feline grin.

Louis cast Lestat a sideways glance. ‘What?’ he said finally.

Lestat waved his hand airily. ‘Oh, nothing!’

‘Clearly, it’s not _nothing_ ,’ he said, coming to a stop and forcing Lestat to stop with him. ‘You keep giving me that amused look. What is it now?’

‘I’m not amused, I’m just curious.’

He sighed. ‘About what?’

Lestat snaked his arm around Louis’s waist and pulled him close. ‘Your sweater. Did I get you it?’

Louis shrugged. ‘I don’t know--’

‘Is it from Zurich, perhaps?’

‘I don’t--’

‘Bern? Geneva?’

Louis scowled. ‘What are you getting at?’ He watched with displeasure as Lestat poked a finger right through one of the holes in the jumper, pressing against his ribs.

‘It’s got more holes than Swiss cheese!’ exclaimed Lestat, giving out a little gasp as his fledgling elbowed him sharply. He let go off Louis and launched himself into a real laughing fit, until blood tears streaked his face. ‘Is it-- no, come back --  is it from the Pope?’ he called at Louis as he stalked off.

‘What nonsense now?’ snapped Louis, jumping a little when Lestat appeared in front of him.

‘Did he bless it? Did he make it holy?’ laughed Lestat, collapsing against him.

Louis stood ramrod straight, raised his eyes heavenward and counted to ten. When he looked down at Lestat, bent over his shoulder with laughter, he gave a grudging smile. ‘Once again, you are obsessed with my clothing, Monsieur.’

Lestat wiped away his tears slowly, uncaring of the faint red streaks they left behind. ‘Well, look at these holes!’ he exclaimed. He stood up straight again and regarded Louis with a critical eye. ‘Hole here, hole right here, by your clavicle… hole just under your ribs… hole around this area…’ he gripped Louis by one shoulder and spun him around slowly. ‘Hole right here, at the base of your spine… god, Louis…’ he said throatily. ‘This is _torture_.’

He turned Louis back around to him, pleased that his lover had acquiesced to being manhandled instead of giving in to his usual complaints. ‘And look at how it’s fraying here,’ he said. He thrust one finger through the hole at Louis’s shoulder and widened it, stuck in another finger, and then another, then thrust his entire hand through, the pads of his fingers coming to rest on the creamy skin there. ‘Why,’ he said huskily, ‘the slightest bit of damage and the entire thing would fall apart.’ He rested his hand against Louis’s chest, pleased to feel the heartbeat thudding quicker below. His eyes snapped to Louis, who held his gaze steadily with green challenge.

‘You’re mistaken,’ said Louis, his voice laced with soft malice. ‘Who would dare to--’ he flinched as Lestat cruelly pulled his hand down, the wool sweater biting at his skin for the briefest second as it stretched taut, before ripping in two all the way down to his navel.’You perfect idiot!’ he shouted.

Lestat placed a palm over his mouth. ‘Such uncouth language, my consort -- don’t you look at me like that -- how unbecoming of you.’ He tightened his grip as Louis’s eyes narrowed. ‘Now, I’m going to let you go, and you will keep your voice low so as not to frighten the town, won’t you?’

Louis glowered, but he nodded slowly.

‘Good,’ said Lestat, dodging the slap aimed at him as he pulled away.

‘You tore my sweater,’ hissed Louis. ‘We have to go home now. I can’t be seen like this!’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Lestat. ‘Let’s head back to Paris. It’s time to go shopping.’ He took off his coat and helped Louis into it. ‘Belt up. It’s a cold night, Monsieur le Trous.’

 

* * *

 

Of course, one phone call had a late-night private shopping session in a store set up for them before they had even reached the opulent Haussmann-style building. Lestat directed the couple of personal shoppers on hand to different parts of the store with various requirements, and shooed them away from the dressing room.

‘Now,’ he commanded. ‘Strip.’

Louis folded his arms. ‘Do you  really think you’re going to get your way, ordering me about like that?’

‘I mean it, Louis,’ he said. ‘Or do I have to pull rank?’

‘Pull rank all you want. I won’t do anything without a _please_.’

‘Strip, please,’ said Lestat, snapping his fingers.

‘Really?’

Lestat seated himself in the chair opposite, and admired his reflection in the mirror for a moment, breaking out into a dazzling smile which he kept on his face when he looked up at Louis again. ‘Indulge me,’ he said, spreading his hands. ‘It’s Christmas, after all.’

‘Fine,’ he muttered. He shrugged off Lestat’s coat, ignoring his glare when the expensive garment fell to the floor. He grasped at his left shoulder and pulled free the ruins of his tattered sweater. ‘There.’

‘Oh, no, no, no!’ said Lestat. ‘Lose the pants. We’re getting you a whole new ensemble.’

Louis paused, as if to argue, but visibly composed himself and slowly undid his belt, kicking off his shoes in a somewhat ungainly fashion as he did so. He held Lestat’s eye as his pants fell to the floor, pooling around his ankles. ‘There,’ he said. ‘Now are you satisfied?’

Lestat licked his lips. ‘Non, I’m never satisfied.’

They regarded each other in silence, until there was a hesitant knock at the door. Lestat was at it in an instant, pulling through the rack of clothes and shutting the door before the assistant could peek through.

‘ _Alors_!’ said Louis, staring at the clothing rack in dismay. ‘You’re not serious.’

‘I damned well am!’ snapped Lestat. ‘Don’t just stand there, get started!’

 

* * *

‘This is too tight.’

‘It’s the _style_!’

‘You can see everything.’

‘It’s meant to hug the abs.’

‘Do you really want everyone seeing this?’

‘True,’ said Lestat. ‘Take it off.’

‘Stripes? No, not stripes!’

‘What is your problem with stripes? I’ve meant to pull you up about this before, by the way.’

‘They make me stand out.’

‘You don’t want to hide in the background!’

‘Yes, I damned well do!’

‘Why must you make everything a chore?’

‘Because -- do you even know how much I hate shopping with you? For Christ’s sake -- did you just spank me?’

‘Do not take our Lord’s name in vain at Christmas!’

‘Are your clothes flammable, Lestat?’

 

* * *

By the end of the ordeal, they were barely on speaking terms, but Lestat had practically bought out half the store, so he was very pleased with himself.

Louis gave a wretched sigh as Lestat grasped his wrist gently, pulling him close. ‘Can I get dressed now?’ he asked.

Lestat was in a blissful daze, singing quietly along to the song playing over the store’s soundsystem. He held Louis in place with one hand whilst he reached for the outfit he had draped over the chair nearby:

_There was a time you let me know_

_What’s really going on below_

_But now you never really show it to me, do you?_

‘Lestat--’

‘Hush,’ he said softly.

‘I just--’ Louis’s voice was muffled as Lestat placed the striking new sweater (cashmere, and green, of course) over his head and pulled it down.

‘The first time I undressed you,’ said Lestat conversationally, 'it was raining outside. There were no lamps lighted in my room -- I had known you would prefer the dark, as if you could hide in it.’

‘Ah, you planned it?’

Lestat paused and smirked at him. ‘Mais oui. And the rain cast shadows on your white skin, and ran down your face so you looked like you were crying, like your very soul was crying.’

‘You had probably begun one of your tiresome recitations,’ said Louis. ‘I can do the rest myself - I’m not a mannequin.'

‘No,’ said Lestat. ‘You’re so much more.’

‘Oh, please.’

‘Hush, and be sensible, now. Don’t spoil the moment.’

‘Go on,’ said Louis, chagrined. He stepped into the new pants Lestat had picked out, declining to protest as his maker manhandled him.

‘You seemed so pure, as if I would profane you with my touch.’

‘Why are you telling me this now?’ he said, flushing.

‘I don’t know’, said Lestat. ‘Maybe because I know you wouldn’t laugh.’ He met Louis’s gaze and held it.

‘It means too much to me to laugh,’ said Louis finally. He watched as Lestat’s eyes grew liquid, dilated. Louis shuddered with anticipation under that predatory gaze. He swallowed. ‘No more orders, then?’

Lestat placed his hand on Louis’s, then slowly dragged it up his arm, caressing the skin beneath appreciatively. ‘Just a few more,’ he said softly. He ran a thumb over Louis’s lower lip thoughtfully. ‘Are you amenable to that?’

Louis came close and kissed him. ‘Despite everything you say, I have never really had a choice. And I don’t mind.’

 


End file.
